Page 11 of Bringing Home the Bad Boy

Danielle snorts. "Crocodile tears."

"No," I shake my head, remembering his face when he confessed everything. "He said he felt bad as soon as Trace left town. That he knew he'd crossed a line. But he was too proud to fix it. Too scared I'd hate him if I knew the truth."

"Well, he was right about that last part," Danielle mutters.

"I know. He begged me not to leave him," I continue, my voice catching. "Can you believe that? After rejecting me my whole life, after making me feel worthless, after driving away the one person who made me feel seen—now he's afraid of losing me?"

Alix reaches over, taking my hand. Her mixed heritage shows in her features—her mother's deep brown skin and her father's fairness turns heads wherever she goes. "You know what this reminds me of? My grandfather—my dad's dad. When my parents got together, he couldn't handle it. He said his son was making the biggest mistake of his life."

"What happened?" I ask though I know the story. Yet, still needing to hear it again.

"Time," she says. "And persistence. And my parents refusing to let him push them away even when he tried. It took years, but peoplecanchange, Noel. Hearts can soften. Sometimes, they need to be worn down, like water on stone. My grandfather eventually apologized to my mother. He said that watching their love and seeing how happy they made each other changed everything he thought he knew about love."

"Or," Danielle cuts in, refilling all our glasses, "sometimes people show you exactly who they are, and you believe them the first time. Your father showed you who he was that summer. Hell, he showed you your whole life. If he's sorry now, well, too little, too late."

"Dani—" Alix starts.

"No, I'm serious." Danielle sets the wine bottle down with more force than necessary. "He threatened to have peopledeported, Alix. People who had done nothing wrong except exist in his precious world. That's not a mistake. That's not something you do in the heat of the moment. That's calculated evil."

I stare into my wine glass, seeing Trace's face when I stepped away from him today. The hurt in his eyes. The confusion. "What do I do now?"

"About your father or about Trace?" Alix asks gently.

The wine burns a path down my throat as I take another sip. "Both? Neither?" I laugh, but it comes out brittle. "Speaking of Trace..." I touch my lips again, remembering. "He kissed me last night. Under the mistletoe at The Old Barn."

Danielle sits up straighter. "Hold up. You should have led with that. Spill. Everything. Now."

"It was..." I close my eyes, letting myself feel it again. "God, it was everything. Like no time had passed at all. Like we were still those people who couldn't get enough of each other."

"But?" Alix prompts, always sensing when there's more.

"But we're not those people anymore. And even though we both wanted each other. Last night wasn't the right time to jump back into bed. I'm not sure I'm ready for that. I mean, I'm not the same tight body in skinny jeans I was ten years ago." I raise my hand, cutting off their protests. "It's the truth. I'm not putting myself down. We get older—"

"Better," Dani interjects, raising her glass in salute.

"Another truth," I say, toasting back. "But the point is neither of us are kids anymore. He said he wanted to get to know this version of me. His voice was so gentle when he said it. I almost caved and said, why wait?"

"Yes, why?" Dani demands. "You know some of us need to live vicariously through these stories." She nods her chin at Alix and says, "Not her. She's got Ryan. Me."

Alix tosses a pillow at Danielle, which she intercepts with one hand. "Don't listen to her. That's... actually really mature," Alix says.

"Right? I thought so, too. It was perfect. Everything was perfect." My voice cracks. "Until today."

"What happened today?" Alix leans forward, concern etching her features.

"He asked me to help him pick out a Christmas tree. Said there was someone he wanted me to meet." The wine glass trembles in my hand. "It was his daughter. He has a daughter. A beautiful little girl who looks just like him, and he didn't even warn me. Just... sprung her on me like it was nothing."

"Okay. Again, why are we not leading with these things?" Danielle reaches for the wine bottle.

"Wait," Alix holds up her hand. "What did you do?"

"What could I do? I stood there looking as blindsided as I felt. I couldn't just run away. So I stood there like a darn fool, blinking like the proverbial deer in the headlights. Luckily, the little girl was so excited that I hid my shock, burying it in her joy. I told myself just enjoy the day. It's just another parent with his daughter. I reminded myself that I deal with single-parent families all the time."

"So, he is single then?" Alix narrows her eyes and asks.

"I still don't know. Still don't know anything. I thought it sweet when he suggested we get to know each other. But now I'm wondering what other landmines he's planted."

"Let's just back up. After he dropped the baby bomb—what happened?" Danielle asks.

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